


before I learned civility

by amitye



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Child Abuse, Childhood Friends, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amitye/pseuds/amitye
Summary: Mercutio, Benvolio and Romeo grow up together, and grow into tragedy
Relationships: Mercutio & Benvolio Montague & Romeo Montague
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: Heart Attack Exchange 2020





	before I learned civility

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alley_Skywalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/gifts).



_* - I hit my peak at seven feet_

“Why, oh, why do I ever listen to you?”

“Because you love me very much.” Romeo’s voice descended from above, somewhat shaky, the slightest interrogative lilt at the end.

Benvolio, having abandoned all his composure to throw himself down in the emerald-green grass of the Prince’s blooming gardens, raised his eyes heavenwards and sighed. He was trying to think on a solution, but all his logic supplied him with was the fact soon someone was going to wander off the feast in favor of a walk in the gardens, surprising the promising sons of house Montague in the height of their dishonor. The consequences were clear in his mind - the Prince’s wrath, for sure, likely not execution by virtue of their young age, but possibly imprisonment or temporary exile, either for them or their whole family, as this must surely count as a either burglary or espionage of some sort; surely a public shaming in front of the Capulets and the rest of Verona. Wanting to spare Romeo’s childish sensitivity, he decided to only voice the least drastic and disturbing of the possibilities.

“You know we’re going to get beaten black and blue, right?”

Up on the windowsill where he was very precariously perched, Romeo started to sob softly. “But why? I didn’t mean any harm. It was in a book -” 

“No, no, hold still!” he shrieked as Romeo lifted a hand to rub his eyes and swayed worryingly. He didn’t slip, but Benvolio raising his voice made him cry louder, in long whimpery sighs. 

“Look, there must be some way to take you down. Just try to stay calm and hold on tight. You’re not even that up high,” he lied, looking desperately at the broken half of the laundry rope that remained in his hands.

As he looked around for any last resort he may have overlooked, Romeo cried out in terror. He looked up and his heart stopped for a moment as he saw the panel of the window start to open. Blinded by panic, as Romeo started to sob through the first lines of the Hail Mary, he couldn’t think of anything to do but throw himself under the window and spread his arms, even knowing at seven Romeo was too big for him to even give a decent piggyback ride, let alone grab him from such a height.

However, Romeo didn’t fall. He looked up, shaking, and saw that the window had been opened from the other side and an arm had come out of it, grabbing Romeo’s arm and holding him in place. A boy’s laughing face peered out of the window. “Shit, you know how to have fun!”

Benvolio blushed a little at the vulgarity, and before he could reply the mysterious boy helped Romeo in and closed the window, leaving him to pace nervously in the meadow, chewing on his lip. 

Should he go in to say his thanks and retrieve Romeo as soon as possible, or would it be presumptuous to add a trespass to another? There was nothing saying the boy was not a page intentioned to drag Romeo directly before the prince to receive his well deserved punishment. 

“Hello there!” 

Benvolio turned around and saw the boy wave at him, leading Romeo with an arm slung around his shoulders with a very unearned air of familiarity.

He ran towards them and pulled Romeo in a hug, sinking his face in his wispy curls. “You’re alright?” he whispered in his ear, half-choking on his own words.

“Mh-mh.”

He looked at the boy from the palace. “Thank you.” he muttered, and felt like he should bow, but Romeo was wrapped very closely around him and he didn’t want to let him go, so he just gave him a little awkward head gesture.

The boy shrugged, hopping to sit next to them. Up close, he was very obviously no older than Benvolio, although there was something about his smile and dimples that made him look - not wiser, but certainly slyer than his years. He was tall and lanky, with long reddish-brown hair that seemed to have never seen a brush before. “You fret too much. Your little brother’s been very brave about this, didn’t even pee himself.”

Benvolio winced, and gave a very disappointed glance at Romeo when he blushed at that instead of showing the appropriate indignation. He accepted for Romeo to tell him he fretted too much, but a total stranger had absolutely no right to judge him over one life-or-death situation. “We are cousins, in truth. Benvolio and Romeo Montague.”

He expected him to introduce himself as well, but he didn’t. “Troublemakers by blood then, I see,” he said, but there was a sarcastic glint in his eyes that made Benvolio feel uneasy. “And what were you doing up there, Romeo Montague?”

“It was from a book.” Romeo mumbled, smiling sheepishly. Ever since he had started reading longer things than anyone would require from a boy of six, he could get away with his parents with a surprising amount of things as long as he swore he had read it in a book. “A story about the knights of the round table, you see, where Queen Guinevere had been stolen by the brigands, and Lancelot needed to climb through a bridge made of blades to get to her, but of course I don’t have a bridge made of blades, but we found the rope and I figured I should try to see if… if I could manage if I needed it.”

“If you needed to save some pretty girl from a tower?” He pulled him close and ruffled his hair, making him blush. “You didn’t expect I would have to rescue you instead, I bet.”

“Don’t make fun of him, he’s a baby.” He snapped. Romeo gave him sour eyes, but the other boy only laughed.

“What? I’m not making fun of him. I think you’re a very brave little thing, Romeo Montague. You did rescue me from my boredom, which no hero ever managed before.”

“You didn’t tell us what’s your name,” he pointed out at least, irritated, crossing his arms. He didn’t understand why this boy, when he had possibly saved Romeo’s life and certainly both of them from trouble and they had to be grateful to him, couldn’t at least try to be nice. But then he wondered that very often, about plenty of people.

The boy crossed his legs and threw his head back, running his glance over them in a way that made Benvolio itch, then flashed a devilish smile.

“I won’t.”

“Why?”

“It’s no use for two nice boys like you to know a dead man’s name.”

Romeo sucked his breath in sharply, turning to Benvolio as if he should know what this meant, but he had nothing to give him. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder- “How come? Are you ill?”

“No more than you are, sweet Romeo. I’m to be hung come next morning, alas, but I’m going to remember you and be always grateful you took me out to see the sun one last time.”

“What? We’re leaving.” He jumped up and took Romeo’s hand, his heart beating faster. “We’re not stupid, the prince does not hang children. You’re not a prisoner, just a liar, and very strange too.”

The boy laughed, throwing his head back until it touched the floor. “They don’t hang children most times, but they have to with me, for I’m the worst of all. I met an old man in a tavern that called my father a cuckold and my mother a strumpet, and I ran him through with my rapier.”

Benvolio froze, and Romeo jumped in front of him, picking up a branch from the grass and pointing it defensively at the stranger. Benvolio put his hand on his shoulder and pulled him closer, holding him back. “No, don’t be scared, Ro, he’s only a liar. He’s even making up words.” He hoped that was true. He knew a cuckold was a weak old man, for his father used the word a lot when he gave him his lessons on the misdeeds of Lord Capulet and all his kin and ancestors, but he’d never heard the second one. It struck him that if this boy _was_ a murderer that frequented taverns, he would know more insults than Benvolio. “If you were a murderer, you’d be in the dungeons.”

“There are too many murderers in Verona, and the cells are so full they all sleep on the top of each other. They brought me up here because I’m the smallest one, and I would get crushed before they can make me into an example.”

Benvolio shivered, and put his fists against his sides so he wouldn’t hug himself like a scared baby. "I don't believe you. We're going away." He tugged on Romeo's hand to get him moving, though his little cousin seemed so unable to avert his eyes from the boy he struggled to walk a straight line. 

He heard him laugh as they walked away, but he didn't turn. "I scared you! I knew it," he sing-songed.

"We're not scared at all, our parents' audience is over, that's all, and we don't have any reason to c-conv- no-”

“Consort.” Romeo whispered at him.

“to consort with stupid liars." Benvolio finished, making the boy squeak in anger and punch the ground - but he was too busy burning up in shame to enjoy the satisfaction. He only stuttered when he was very nervous anymore, and he had no reason to be nervous.

They had gotten a good distance though the garden, and Romeo had stopped turning around and huddled against him with a sigh, when he felt pulling at this shirt.

"What? You again?" 

The boy stuck his tongue at them. “You’re such scaredy kittens to run away like this. I've duped you good.”

"It's not fair to call us that when you're trying to scare us on purpose," Romeo protested, putting his hands on his lips and scrunching his face up in a frown.

"It's not fair to protest when anyone can see a sweet kitten is what you are, my little Romeo. Ro-meoow. Meow-meow." The boy laughed, running his two thumbs on Romeo's cheeks like whiskers and rustling his hair. Romeo gasped and hid his face into Benvolio's shoulder, blushing into uselessness. Benvolio just wound his arms protectively around him. 

"Well, did you kill someone or not, then?" He asked, very careful to sound bored and look at him sternly. He didn't want Romeo to keep wondering about it and it was impossible to distract him from anything once he got curious, but it wanted it very clear that he had never entertained the thought the little delinquent might not be lying. 

“I can’t even squish a spider, my boys, I was just teasing. Although I _am_ in jail.”

“Oh!” Romeo turned to face him a little, bouncing. “Just a highwayman then?”

“Not quite. See, my parents are cross at me, so they sent me here for my uncle to keep me locked up so they won’t have to see me for a while.” 

“Oh, that’s not jail, you’re just grounded,” Romeo said, but before Benvolio could sigh and shake his head over the way he sounded almost disappointed, something dawned on him.

“Your - wait, is your uncle the prince?”

“Yes, did I not tell you?” The boy swept in a deep, dramatic bow. “I am Mercutio Guercio, pleased to meet you. Why that shocked face?”

Benvolio blushed as he realized he was staring and made his face go calm, crossing his arms to hug himself. It would be very rude to say he didn’t sound at all like a child of royal blood. Still, if this Mercutio wasn’t a criminal and wasn’t lying anymore he didn’t see any reason to drag Romeo away.

“What did you do to be grounded?” He asked instead, holding Romeo’s hand as he sat down with his chin on his other palm as if Mercutio was setting out to tell him the most interesting story anyone had ever heard, instead of that he had skipped his lessons or stolen something from the kitchen.

“Mama was cross that I put a frog in my little brother’s crib.” 

Benvolio frowned, looking at the boy for any kind of guilt or joking on his face, but he looked perfectly calm, still smiling cheekily.

“That’s mean.” Romeo mumbled, clinging to Benvolio’s hand a little harder.

“Yes, you can’t be surprised you’re grounded. What would you even be mad at a baby for?” 

Mercutio ripped a handful of grass from the ground and threw it at him. “You stupid!” he said, laughing when Benvolio winced in spite of himself. “I’m not mad at him. Did I put a rat in his crib, or a cockroach or a poisonous snake? No. A little, soft drooly thing like him. He could have played with it, maybe then he wouldn’t be bawling and screaming at every hour of the day, but Valentine’s a stupid baby too, so he couldn’t figure that out.” 

“All babies are stupid,” Benvolio stopped him before he could go on a worse tirade. “You just have to wait a year or two, then he won’t be making such a mess and you can play with him. Then you wouldn’t get in so much trouble.” In truth, the boy didn’t strike him as patient enough for this, but he felt bad not sharing some of the only wisdom he had with a boy who struggled with it so much.

Mercutio looked at the two of them, rubbing his eyes with one hand and twisting the grass with the other. Then he rose up and slung his arms around both their shoulders, quick as a blink. “Well, it’s no use thinking about it when I’m out in the sunshine again now and you’ve saved me from dying of boredom. Do you want to come see where I found the frogs?”

Benvolio bit his lip, as Romeo tugged at his shirt, chirping “Oh, can we?”  
They probably shouldn’t be risking further trouble, but they had already been forbidden from coming to their older cousins’ fishing and hunting trips on account of wandering off too much and contributing little, and the idea of going to a pond seemed terribly inviting. Moreover Mercutio seemed to be trying a little harder to be polite and sociable.

“We would like it, thank you.” Benvolio said, pleased with himself, and Mercutio whistled happily and led them along, almost hopping, still holding the both of them. 

Benvolio was just starting to relax when the boy halted, almost knocking the both of them over in the grass.

“Oh, what now?”

“I forgot that there won’t be any frogs today. It didn’t rain, the mud will be too dry and they’ll stay cool in bed. You’ll have to come tomorrow if you want to see them.”

Romeo sighed, looking down despondently, and Mercutio bent down a little so they were at eye level and pinched his cheek. “No, don’t be upset. We’ll find them tomorrow, and I’ll pick some up for you so you can pet them, too, I have a box of flies to lure them and a special little net. And there are dragonflies there too, and there will be slugs if it rains enough. You just have to come again tomorrow. Do you think you can?”

He shifted his balance from a foot to the other, and smiled quite differently than earlier, so nervously Benvolio didn’t have the heart to point out it hadn’t rained yesterday either, and he doubted Mercutio had a box of frogs ready to put into cribs whenever it was needed, too.

“We’re going to ask.”

“Promise?”

They exchanged a look, Romeo fidgeting nervously.

“Alright, I see, you can’t promise before you ask your parents. Can you go ask them now? You said they’re here. You said their audience is almost over, didn’t you, Benvolio? You couldn’t stay long here anyway.”

Benvolio hesitated a bit, feeling very awkward now about owning up that it was an excuse. “I hope we can come,” he ended up saying, and smiled when the other boy threw himself in the grass with a triumphant giggle. 

He and Romeo walked back to the front garden again, their arms slung around each other, Romeo practically bouncing on his feet. “We are _really_ asking, right?”

Benvolio ran his hand through his hair, hesitating to reply. “I’m not sure. This Mercutio seems very funny, and I’d like to, but he’s a liar, and there’s no one to tell us he didn’t lie about the frogs and we’re just going to get into some trouble instead.” 

“I don’t think anyone else will play with him, if we don’t go.” Romeo said, leaning against him like he had suddenly forgotten how to walk.

Benvolio laughed at that. Romeo could truly sound like a little old wise man sometimes, when he got lost in thought too long. “That’s not a good reason why we should have to.”

“You helped me try out the rope climbing because no one else wanted, though.” 

“Yes, and how did that go?” He ruffled Romeo’s hair, and kissed the top of his head when he scowled at him. “It’s different - you’re my cousin, and you’re a nice, sweet boy, which I don’t think he is. But I suppose after what we did today, this couldn’t be any stupider, could it?

Romeo cried out in delight and wrestled free of his hug, running so fast Benvolio had to honestly chase him all the way back to their parents, even though he was taller enough he usually just pretended to. He hoped this wouldn’t prove another disappointment.

 _** - we could be pirates_

The June Mercutio turned eleven, the door of the fishing hut where they had gone to play and kept their treasures all spring finally yielded to the summer storm, coming unhinged and crashing on the beach. When they went there to salvage their tub of river shrimps and collections of pretty colored pebbles from the looting of the Capulet boys, Romeo climbed up on the broken door to let the rain drip over his face, spreading his arms so wide he felt as if the wind would blow him away and cried out to the sky that this galleon would take them through the Seven Seas to be the envy of every crew they met.

For some reasons - Romeo, from the admitted disadvantage of his nine years, was shamefully bad at telling what play-pretend games were fit for young men their age and what were the prerogative of stupid babies - Benvolio and Mercutio enjoyed the proposal and didn’t laugh at him, and therefore he and Mercutio met up early next morning, bringing everything they could find to help in their endeavor.

“Where’s your rascal cousin?” Mercutio asked him when they were done blocking the four corners of the door on the banks of the river, scowling. He had shown up with a black handkerchief around his eye, proclaiming Guercio made for a better nickname than a last name anyway, and refused to take it off even as he kept tripping on the shoreline and soaking his britches. 

“He stopped at the market. He said he wanted to buy a sail and sea biscuits.”

“Just an excuse to laze around and give us the slip, I know that boy, I. Did you at least bring me something useful, sweetling?”

Romeo blushed when Mercutio idly smacked his cheek. “I have our practice swords and firestones, though nothing much to set fire to, and candles to melt should we meet mermaids.”

Mercutio’s face split in a wide grin. “Mermaids! I like this. I see all the reading you little fools do is coming to some use. But would you melt the wax in your ears? Don’t you want to hear the song of the sea?”

Romeo bit his lip. It had seemed just so pessimistic and dready to set out on this not even taking into account the possibility of encountering mermaids, but he didn’t truly think Mercutio would believe him, and the perspective of it actually happening (while Romeo didn’t presume to make certain statements about the wide Seven Seas, he definitely had taken for granted it wouldn’t happen in their little riverbank) felt more frightening than dreamy. Still, he couldn’t tell Mercutio. “Of course I would, but in the story only Odysseus could listen, and he was tied up, and all the others had to put the wax in their ears so they could man the ship.”

Mercutio leaned his hand on his chin. “We don’t actually need to do a lot of manning, though. We could all tie each other together and listen.”

“But someone would have to tie himself up then, and I don’t think we can do it well enough it works. There’s a reason they did it that way in the story.”

Mercutio scoffed, drumming his bare feet in the water. “The reason is they were all dithering little cowards like you two. I’ll be the one listening then, and if you’re nice to me maybe I’ll tell you something about it too.”

Romeo gasped. “What? It’s not fair. I should listen. It wasn’t even your idea.” 

“Listen for what, even? Do you think the mermaids are going to tell you what girls’ lips taste like?”

“They might as well! It doesn’t say in the story.” Romeo had gotten a very stern glance from the teacher and an accusation of being cheeky when he had asked why it was not in the book if it was so important and magical, and the memory tinged him scarlet as Mercutio kept grinning insolently at him. 

“And what, do you think they will tell you what…” he had a painfully hard time thinking of a comeback. Mercutio always seemed so confident in knowing things, or assured that whatever his imagination would come up with was more interesting than any other answer anyway, he couldn’t imagine what he would like to find out. “What girls’ cunts taste like?”

Mercutio shot up on his feet, his eyes wide as saucers, and shoved him back in the water. “No, where did you hear that? Wash that dirty mouth! Benvolio is going to kill me if he thinks I’m teaching you bad words!”

Romeo felt too offended to resurface, and just held his breath and squatted on the riverbed until Mercutio panicked and fished him out himself. 

They had just come to the conclusion that Benvolio would probably not care to hear about the mermaids and would happily tie up the both of them as long as they stopped bickering, when the subject of their conversation came down the path to the river, with a basket in one hand and a branch in the other.

“Good morning, if it may be still called morning.” Mercutio said when he was close enough, wrapping his arm around Romeo’s waist. “This poor boy almost drowned while you were dawdling, you know?”

“It may still be called too early for this nonsense. I had to go to the shepherds’ market to do an errand.” Benvolio scoffed, not even wasting time to look at Romeo with worried eyes.

“More like to flirt with the shepherd’s daughter,” Romeo mumbled, a little resentful for that.

“I just talked to her once!” Benvolio balled his hands into fists on his hips, scowling at the two of them. “Fie, fie, you’re so ungrateful. And I thought to surprise you getting a mouser for our galleon, but maybe I should go back to the public haunt of men where being nice is not a cause for suspicion, and leave you here alone so you can have fun saying mean things to each other only you understand. Sounds like a much better use-”

“Wait, wait, you’ve gotten a kitten for us?” Romeo jumped up and clapped his hands, startling Benvolio in the middle of his tirade.  
“Well, not quite.” Benvolio bit his lip, grabbing his hand to jump onto the door. He put the basket in Mercutio’s lap and pulled the cover away to reveal a small gray puppy staring at them with an odd air of suspicion.

Romeo shrieked in delight, throwing his arms around his cousin’s neck and giggling when he twirled him around. Mercutio gingerly put his hand into the basket, and squealed when the puppy licked his hand. He pulled it out, holding it in the crook of his arms like a baby.  
“What a long face. I’m calling him Ass.”

“No!” Benvolio slapped Mercutio’s hand. “Smoke looks like that because there’s a little wolf in him, that’s how shepherd dogs are, Emilia told me. And he already has a beautiful name she gave him, without you ruining things as usual.” 

“I knew there was a girl!” Romeo giggled, taking the puppy as Mercutio handed him before Benvolio could take him back. He laid down and put it over his stomach, letting him snuggle against him “Did you pay for this little one in kisses, Benny?” 

“Are you calling your cousin a strumpet? You truly are wretched beyond all belief, Romeo Montague.”

He winked at Mercutio. “Why? Kisses never hurt anyone.”

“You’re so tiresome.” Benvolio sighed sitting down next to Romeo. “Emilia wanted to sell him to me for honest money, but my father says we have no room at home and I’m always at your house playing in the kennel anyway. So I asked her if I could just keep him for the day. She was very happy I was taking him sailing.”

Romeo frowned. “Maybe you shouldn’t have told her that when we’re just sailing for pretend. Maybe she wanted him to see the sea.”

“Why? She knows there’s no sea in this town no less than we do.”

“She probably just wants you to get him used to water for when her father has to drown the puppies they couldn’t sell,” Mercutio supplied.

Romeo exchanged a glance with Benvolio, nudging Smoke in his direction. Then he walked to Mercutio and pushed him in the water with a satisfying splash. The puppy barked in alarm and Benvolio hooted with laughter, kissing Romeo’s palm when he went to sit back next to him.

“You’re a true gift, Ro.”

Romeo smiled, and tickled Smoke’s belly as Benvolio showed him, but after a moment he started feeling a bit nervous. The water was low enough in that part of the river that they could swim even as little children without any fear of drowning, but that also meant it was low enough for him to smack his head on the riverbed. 

He leaned out of the edge of the door, peeking in the water, and was slammed back by the full force of Mercutio leaping out of the water and his lips pressed on his.

He scowled as Mercutio got up and shook off the water like a stray dog - cheerfully blurting out “This is how you do it, Ass.”

“You’re so mean.” 

“I thought you said kisses don’t hurt anyone.”

He sat down in Romeo’s lap, bowing and smiling to Benvolio’s sour glances. “Well, what are we going to do now? We have the ship, we have the mouser, but we don’t have anyone to rob or feed to the sharks.”

Romeo sighed. “I imagine the Capulets are going to come throw rocks at us anytime soon and we can fight them. It’s unavoidable.”

Mercutio drummed his fingers on his shoulder. “Unavoidable like the Lent or unavoidable like Carnival?”

“Not sure. Probably like the plague.” Truth be told, since Romeo had been allowed a practice sword he had been much more eager to stumble into Capulets than he did when he was little, and it was not quite true that they harassed them every day. But even when he felt in the mood for a sparring match or daring defense of their fort the Capulet boys always managed to sour his mood - more and more often they would bring real sharpened swords and wear leather under their doublets, and while Romeo supposed he could do the same thing it seemed so much like cheating that it regularly made him feel like he would do everyone and himself a favor not even getting out of bed, bright summer days and pretty new sword with his initial on it be damned. He had no doubt the fight would run too long and too dirty and end with some guards threatening to call the prince and soil the adventure in no time. 

“Well, I hope they won’t be too many today. I didn’t think to tell Emilia I might involve her dog in a fight.” 

“I don’t think even the Capulets would involve a puppy into a fight,” he reflected, but Benvolio’s raised eyebrows made no concession to the Capulets’ sense of morality.

Still, they gathered up rocks in the corners, readied their swords and huddled together to stare at the horizon for a while, awaiting enemies. Mercutio helped him make a little collar out of rope so they could at least let the puppy splash around in the water without the current taking him away. 

“You know,” Benvolio mumbled, taking his shirt off to stretch out in the sun. “I imagine pirates would have to fish, if they’re on long journeys at sea and never, ever meet anyone to pillage or any treasure or anything useful at all.”

Romeo reluctantly detangled himself from Mercutio to crawl into the hut to fetch their thread and books. "There, my captain. The silver of the sea will be our only treasure today, I fear." 

Benvolio shoved him at that, but half-heartedly enough he just tumbled onto Mercutio instead of falling into the water again. 

“Fae knights have armor plates made with fish scales.” Mercutio whispered in his ear. “They do glitter like silver, but more colorful. If we fish enough I could make one for you, then you wouldn’t have to worry about the fights.”

“Yes, that sounds sturdy.” Benvolio sighed, throwing his hook in the water. Romeo ignored him. 

“Where did you read that?”

“I saw it with my own very eyes. The Fae Queen - well, one of the Fae Queens, but Mab’s the only one to me - comes to visit me sometimes when I can’t sleep, with her escort of knights in fish armor and ladies with spiderweb hairnets and raspberries growing out of their bosoms. You can make bargains with the fae, you know, and they could tell me how the armors are made if I pay them.”

Romeo giggled. “I think you’re making this up because you’re upset we didn’t see any mermaids.” 

Mercutio bounced, his eyebrows knitting together. “Faithless, wretched boy! Look here, look here.” 

He fished out a little notebook and a coal stick from his sack and opened it in Romeo’s lap, showing him a drawing of a lady with dragonfly wings and a sharp crown on her head, sitting into a rounded carriage, whip in hand. Romeo sucked his breath in as she followed the delicate line of her wing with his finger, brushing a little with awe.

“I drew this in winter, when she flew around in a hazelnut, but now it’s a seashell for the summer. And there’s a team of crickets pulling the chariot, but I can’t draw those well yet,” Mercutio announced proudly.

“And the knights and ladies are as tiny too?” Romeo asked, leaning his chin on his hands. 

“She’s not tiny all the time,” Mercutio explained, his voice rising a little. “Only when she goes to distribute dreams and nightmares, and then she needs to be tiny to fly through the windows and spread the dream dust properly on people’s eyelids, and then she doesn’t need an escort. But sometimes she can’t be, and then she takes the escort with her and she’s just as tall as a normal woman, like when she has to curse wells or swap men’s desired firstborn sons with bastards - she can’t carry babies when she’s tiny.”

“Changelings,” Benvolio interrupted him. He gently pulled Smoke back on the door to put him in his lap. “You mixed the story up. They leave fae babies to be raised by men, and steal the human ones.”

Mercutio bit his lip hard, scratching the puppy’s ears. “See, she does that in other places, but not in Verona. And it’s more other Queens who do that, because she loves Verona most of all places. There’s too much iron here, with all the swords and the blood, and the changelings can’t stand it, so she had to change it and leave bastards instead.”

“Then how can she even stand to come here?” Romeo asked, curious in spite of himself, leaning more and more towards his friend. “She must hate iron too.”

“Hate she does, but it doesn’t hurt her much. That’s quite different, isn’t it? But the babies are delicate. They just shrivel up as soon as she puts them in the cradles.” Mercutio smacked his cheek when he grimaced in horror. “You don’t believe me? She tried to give five to the Capulets and they all shrivelled up like little worms, so now she’s switched to bastards for good.”

Benvolio put his hand on Romeo’s shoulder, scowling. “Mercutio. Don’t.” 

Romeo felt a little nauseous, but he didn’t want Mercutio to think that he was a delicate baby, nor especially that he didn’t want to listen to him. He raised his shoulders at his cousin, trying to sound brave. “Lady Capulet says it’s because my mother did witchcraft on her. This if anything is more realistic, Benny.”

“Good boy, smart boy.” Mercutio sing-songed, ruffling his hair. Benvolio groaned.

“How is this even a prank? Babies all look alike. Who could even tell which one’s a bastard?”

“Oh, the fathers can tell apart just fine. They won’t say it out loud in case it angers the fae, but the bastard babies are just different. Louder too.”

Romeo laughed. “What did you even give her, for the fae queen to give all her secrets to the first boy who asked?”

Mercutio frowned at him, shoving him half-heartedly. “Alright, alright, believe me not, but don’t complain when I ask her to put a beehive in your beds.”

“You could just do that yourself,” Romeo pointed out.

Mercutio shrieked, smacked him over the head with the notebook and threw the coalstick on shore, whistling at the puppy when he followed and sniffed it and cursing when he didn’t fetch it. “Benvolio, you brought us a stupid dog too. I really can’t expect anything from you lot.”

Benvolio gasped, affronted, holding Smoke tighter against his chest. “He was born to defend his sheep and fight with the wild beasts of the forest, not to do silly tricks for you.” 

Mercutio rose up, his eyes glinting with mischief, but Romeo grabbed him before he could throw him in the water. “Do you think Queen Mab could bring him a puppy he could keep, Merc? I’m sure Benny would be fine even if it’s a bastard one.”  
He smiled innocently, and Mercutio beamed as he touched his cheek. “Ah, I knew you believed me! I do think Queen Mab as better things to do than give dogs to stupid boys. But since I love you so much, Volio, _I_ could bring you a puppy.”

Benvolio looked up nervously. “Do I want to know where you would get it?”

Mercutio shrugged, then went to take his coalstick again and pushed the notebook on Romeo’s back, writing down something. “Mh-mh. That’s not important, I think, but do not disturb me while I plan. Is a fierce guard dog like this one alright, or do you want a soft little one?”

Benvolio shook his head. “No, I would love a guard dog, as long as I could have him since he’s little.”

“Mh-mh. And you don’t have any siblings, do you?”

Romeo giggled. “Seven beautiful sisters, but he’s hiding them in the attic from your rakish eyes.” 

“No, obviously I do not. Why?”

Mercutio rested his chin on his hand. “Well, then I’m assuming your parents would be very upset if anything happened to you.”

Benvolio threw a vaguely alarmed look in Romeo’s direction. He shrugged. “I… I would think so. Why, would I have to run away from home?”

Mercutio scribbled furiously into the notebook, slamming it shut with a satisfying clap. He held Romeo’s hand and grabbed Benvolio’s wrist with the other. “You can’t know it before it’s done! You always say planning is important, aye you do, but not when it’s my plan, mh? What a wicked little liar you are to your friend who is doing you a favor.”

“Not one I asked you for-” Benvolio began, but his words were cut short abruptly as Mercutio dragged the both of them into the water, howling with laughter.

_*** - I think your house is haunted_

Romeo woke with a jolt at the sound of rapping against his window. He hesitated for a moment, considering running to call Benvolio or at least looking for a knife, but as the noise got quicker and more desperate his heart became heavy with fear and he threw the blinds open. He took a startled step back when Mercutio’s pale, grimacing face appeared on the other side of the glass, blinking wildly, but when he looked back up he was gone. 

He cautiously opened the window pane, his heart picking up so quickly his head spun. He didn’t see anything at first and wondered if he had been dreaming. Then he looked closer to the wall and saw Mercutio lying crumpled on the grass. 

He felt the air get stuck in his lungs as he jumped out of the window, his hands shaking as he pulled Mercutio upright against the wall, stroking his hair back to look at his face. He breathed again a little when he opened his eyes, looking at him with a half-stunned, half-annoyed glare. 

“Mercutio, if this is a prank I’m going to kill you.”

Mercutio started laughing, and he hesitantly joined in until Mercutio went on and on until it turned to sobs, almost choking on it, doubled over.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. What’s wrong?” He stuttered uselessly, stroking his back. He tried to help him stand up, but he slumped against the wall like a ragdoll. Romeo wondered if he had hit his head falling off - Benvolio always said it would happen sometimes if he didn’t start coming through the door like a normal person - but it was too dark to see if he was bleeding. He glanced over at the ivy trellis and the windowsill and immediately regretted being impulsive and jumping. It was low enough to jump and climb in with ease, but not enough for him to haul Mercutio back in if he couldn’t cooperate, and if he had left through the door he could at least have left it open. 

He kissed Mercutio’s temple as an encouragement and he went wandering through the garden, poking blindly in the darkness until he found the well bucket. He set it against the wall, and put his arms around Mercutio’s waist to help him on it. He miraculously kept balance even when Romeo stepped back, but the way he shook like a wet baby bird in his arms seemed to cling to Romeo’s skin, making him shaky and weak in return as he climbed onto the windowsill. Once he was there he could grab Mercutio’s arms and pull him in easily enough, although he gasped and whimpered in a way that gave him goosebumps when he braced his hand on his back.

Before he could ask for any explanation at all, Mercutio barrelled onto Romeo’s bed and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Romeo hesitantly curled next to him. He was crying like a hurt puppy, but his stubbornly shut eyes showed no tears.

“Merc, for God’s sake, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

He was scared of touching him too much in case he was hurt, but when he cupped his cheek he realized he was still trembling and thought he might have gotten lost or locked out of his house, until the cold of the night overwhelmed him and his house was the first place he could find to get warmed up. 

He did think he looked a bit feverish when he pulled his candle close to his face, studying the mortal whiteness of his cheeks and pressed lips. He adjusted the blankets so the heat of both of them was captured underneath it and gently rubbed his hands, kissing them once in a while to try in vain to distract him from the suffering. When he bore it without complaining for a while, he embraced him and Mercutio shrieked as if he had stabbed him, his back arching and his chest rising and falling so laboriously for a terrified moment he thought he’d drop dead in his arms. 

“Mercutio, please, I just want to take care of you. What’s wrong? Why did you come here?”

“Just - it hurts so bad, just stay here, please, I can’t take this,” he mumbled hoarsely, twisting to curl into a ball, hiding his face under the blanket. 

Romeo felt helpless, and even worse when he became aware of the tears running down his cheeks and the far more worrisome fact Mercutio hadn’t even made a token effort to tease him. He resorted to just stroking his hair and face, which didn’t seem to hurt him, until he calmed down enough that he could slowly shift the blanket away.

He froze at the sight of the blood staining his shirt. Slowly, biting hard on his lip to stop his fingers from shaking, he ran his hand all the way through his hair on the back of his head, but he couldn’t feel any wound or even a bump. 

“Merc, I need you to talk to me, I’m scared. What happened to you?”

He started removing his shirt as he spoke, as gently as he could, but Mercutio still hissed once his skin was exposed to the air, revealing the shallow wounds on his back. 

“My mother…” he breathed out, his voice hazy and thick with pain. Romeo couldn’t understand the rest. A dark, liquid terror seeped through his mind, blocking him in place. Could it be his family had been attacked? It seemed so surreal that either highwaymen or the Capulets would dare as much as to raise swords against the prince’s family, even that of a sister that had married so scandalously down, and yet he had been shown well enough that no act of violence was out of question for this city. He pressed his open hand over his mouth, forcing himself to breathe in and out.

“It’s alright. Don’t strain yourself, try-try to breathe. I’ll go call Ben.”

“No!” Mercutio looked up at him as if he had suggested giving him up to the hangman, his eyes wild with horror, shaking his head. “Please, no.”

Romeo swallowed, trying to keep thinking straight. He hated the thought of harming Mercutio further, even if this was only a silly whim of not wanting to be seen in such a state of vulnerability, but two heads always did better than one, and he and Ben had never handled something so awful apart, and if something terrible had truly happened Benvolio might comfort him better than Romeo could.

“I’ll just get some water then, alright? So you can at least get cleaned up a bit. Try to relax now, and then you can tell me what happened.”

He waited for Mercutio to nod, gently wiped his eyes and left, shutting the door behind himself as he knocked on Benvolio’s door in the secret pattern that meant _come here right now._ He didn’t waste time waiting for him; he filled up the basin he kept on the little table by the door and set it by Mercutio’s side, dipping his towel in. 

Mercutio was now lying flat on his stomach, his soft whimpers muffled by the pillow. Romeo started brushing the towel on the uppermost cut as lightly as he could, but it was filthy and he could hear he was hurting him anyway, so he tried pressing a little harder, which made him sob. 

Benvolio walked in at that point, wide eyed and flinching at Mercutio’s complaints. He met Romeo’s eyes for a moment, but when he could give him no explanation he huddled on the ground next to the bed, taking Mercutio’s hand.

“Go away,” he muttered, but Benvolio ignored him. 

“Don’t give me this bullshit now. Did you get into another fight?”

Romeo was tempted to stop and listen, maybe understand something, but he realized he should take advantage of Mercutio being as distracted as he would get and went on, biting his lip and swallowing tears when he twitched in pain. Soon he could only shake his head or nod to Benvolio’s whispered questions anyway. Benvolio rose up, after kissing the top of Mercutio’s head, and took the towel from his hand. “This is too rough. Let me see.”

He fished out a summer nightshirt from Romeo’s closet and Romeo helped him cut strips, blinking when his eyes blurred with guilty tears. Benvolio put his arm around his shoulder to pull him close. “He’s going to be fine,” he whispered in his ear as he went back to work.

“These aren’t very deep. You shouldn’t be crying so much.”

“Fuck you.” Mercutio whimpered, and Romeo elbowed his cousin. The last thing he needed was more shame. 

“Fuck _you,_ you know what I mean. It shouldn’t be hurting this badly. Will you tell us what happened?”

Mercutio sniffled and burrowed into the pillow. 

“Alright then.” 

Romeo looked miserably at the clump of dirty linen, dropping another in the pile. “Maybe it’s infected. We should probably go to a doctor, or at least Friar Lawrence.”

“No!” Mercutio punched the headboard, and cried out when the movement stretched his shoulder. Romeo and Benvolio looked at each other.  
“Maybe we can just wait it out and see if he gets feverish tomorrow.” Benvolio sighed, wrapping his arms around Romeo to rest his head on his shoulder. “I know you work in the infirmary with Friar Lawrence sometimes. Did he teach you anything useful?”

Romeo was trying, but everything about herblore he had ever been taught now was flitting chaotically in his head like a half-remembered nursery rhyme, and for the first time he deeply wished the good Friar would make his lessons less philosophical. At least he could vaguely remember the story of the good Samaritan. “Maybe a little wine and oil?”

“That sounds like it might be right.” Benvolio ruffled his hair, and Romeo felt a pressing need to just collapse sobbing in his arms, but he needed to be stronger than that. “I’m going, alright? Try not to rile him up too much. You should find it easier than me anyway.”

He moved to the door, but when he passed by the side of the bed Mercutio glanced up at him and grabbed his wrist. “No, stay here.”

“Oh -” Romeo could see his cousin flush in the candlelight. “If you want then, Romeo maybe…”

Mercutio shivered, the blanket bumping as he kicked nervously. “No, no…”

Romeo offered him his hand before he had to strain to reach him, and he clung to it like a lifeline, his arms spread out and ramrod straight as if he had been put on the cross.

“Do you want us both so badly, or are you scared to be left alone with either of us?” He joked, hoping to wake the part of him that wouldn’t be caught dead expressing such weakness to distract him. Mercutio’s hand tightened painfully around his and he sobbed in frustration. On the other side of the bed, Benvolio winced and hid his face in his hand.

He stroked the curls on the back of Mercutio’s neck as he left Benvolio’s wrist to curl up into a tight ball, whimpering and cursing as he pressed his knees against his head. Benvolio threw a furtive look in their direction, stepped back slowly and then made a run for it. Romeo took a deep breath and shifted closer to Mercutio so their foreheads were pressed together and the empty space Benvolio had left was cut from his view.

“It hurts, ’Meo” Mercutio mumbled, grimacing when Romeo wiped the tears from his cheeks, almost apologetic. It struck him that Benvolio had been right - it was very strange for Mercutio to be in so much pain to bring him to tears and wailing, when he usually tried so hard to act like nothing could hurt him. 

He let his hand fall a little further, rubbing soothing circles into the back of his neck. “I know. It will hurt worse if you don’t stop twitching like an eel, too. But we’ll be done soon, and then it won’t hurt as bad when you’re asleep.”

Mercutio laughed weakly, bopping the tip of his nose with his fingers. “Meow-Meow. What does a sweet kitten like you know about pain?”

“I’ve gotten the shit beaten out of me because of you often enough,” he said, even though he realized just as he was saying how stupid it sounded and how far away their little scrapes with Capulet boys felt now. _What happened to you?_ was what he truly wanted to ask, but it clearly hurt Mercutio just as badly as the physical wounds, so he let the silence envelop them, pressing a kiss in the wrinkled space between Mercutio’s eyes.

Benvolio came back in carrying jars and more towels, and Mercutio’s breathing started to quicken already as he put his hand on his shoulder to adjust him a little. Romeo grasped his hand tight and nuzzled against him. “Don’t be scared, alright? It will be over soon, You can have some wine when we’re done, too.”

He was cut off by Mercutio’s agonized scream, his whole body going stiff as he arched his back, his nails stabbing into Romeo’s palm. Benvolio slumped against the wall, throwing the wine-soaked cloth in the corner with a rage Romeo had hardly ever seen in him. He looked like he was about to vomit, but he didn’t. “Shut him up.”

“What?” He pressed Mercutio’s stiff hand against his lips, blinking back tears. 

Benvolio wiped his eyes, bending down again. Mercutio whined a little when he touched him, but didn’t complain of the way he was talking like he wasn’t there at all. “Yes, put his hand over his mouth or give him something to bite into, anything. It won’t make this shit any better if your parents wake up and find us like this.”

He fished out a sparring glove and did as he was told, biting his lip not to sob. He realized this didn’t leave him with any free hand when Mercutio started screaming again, so he tried to talk to him at first, babbling on about traps against Capulets for their fort and trips on the river, but once he realized he had just gone to listing off all the fishes he could think of he went quiet, switching to dropping kisses on his forehead and neck and every part of him that wasn’t in Benvolio’s way. He had no idea if it was soothing, or if he felt it at all.

His voice was hoarser and weaker than before, and he went quiet so abruptly sometimes Romeo had to check if he was still breathing. Still, at some point it was over, and Benvolio slipped next to him to help Mercutio drink the leftover wine. 

“I’m sorry I had to do this. You were very good.” 

Mercutio scowled at him and ripped the jug from his hands, but he lost balance and Benvolio had to hold it for him. “You know we love you so much, right?”

He sighed as Mercutio shrugged his hand off and went to the other side of the bed again to rub oil in the wounds. This was not supposed to hurt, just soften his skin and help him heal without scarring, but Romeo still sighed in relief when Mercutio didn’t scream and simply nuzzled up against him and closed his eyes. He thought he had lost consciousness for a moment, the last of his strength giving out once he didn’t need to fight the pain anymore, but when he stroked his cheek Mercutio started talking.

“I had a dream tonight.”

“Yes?” Benvolio strained a smile.

“Oh, what was that?”

“I saw a murderer sneaking from the window. A murderer, though - I think when it’s like this it’s called an assassin. He had red hair, like me, but brighter, and the smile of the devil.” 

“That’s scary.” Romeo patted his head uneasily. Mercutio’s imagination was always dark and dreadful, and this was a mild sort of fancy by his standards, but with what had happened there was no telling how much he might be confusing dreams and reality.

“He showed me his knives - one for my mother, one for my father, one for my aunt, one for Paris, and the last for my noble uncle, but for the baby he had just a pillow.”

He heard Benvolio swear softly, and felt overwhelmed by a childish need to scurry by his side and grab his hand. Valentine was a chatty boy of five who Mercutio rather called “the brat” most often, and no one would call him a baby anymore. 

“He didn’t have anything for me at all, though. He just grinned and put his hands around my throat.” 

Romeo flinched as Benvolio dropped his bowl to shatter on the floor. He put his hand on Mercutio’s cheek, forcing him to turn to him. “Merc, it was just a bad dream. You’re safe with us now. You understand that?”

“But I felt him. His nails digging in my skin and the air leaving my lungs.” Mercutio played idly with Benvolio’s hand, opening and closing his fingers, tracing the lines of his palm. “I almost died. He was sitting on my chest and I couldn’t see because the nightshirt was pulled over my face and I start seeing little lights, like fireflies, but they made my head ache.”

Romeo rubbed his eyes, his fingers starting to shake and revolt against any attempt to usefulness. “That wasn’t real. You must have been so scared, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, but it wasn’t real, and you’ll have forgotten it tomorrow.”

“My parents said that too. I ran into their bed screaming to rouse the household and go warn my noble uncle of the treason coming, as if I was a good and dutiful child like you two. But I was only screamed at for my pains, and my father was so offended when I punched him in my urgency when he tried to hold me back, that he brought up that I am the bane of his existence, and were it not for Valentine he’d regret saddling himself with me and my loose mother every day he’s alive. He was always cranky like that when he just woke up.”

“Peace, Mercutio.” Benvolio said softly, brushing his fingers on his lips. “Anyone might be scared and snap as you did, it’s not your fault. Thinking of that will just hurt you more.”

“Anyone?” Romeo nodded, smiling encouragingly, and tried to hug him, but he slipped away. “My mother didn’t think so. My mother thinks I’m a lying, unruly little brat because there are evil spirits inside me, and it’s the devil that makes me see horrible things that aren’t there. That until it’s all out of me I will just be a pain for everyone, and put everyone in danger bringing evil influences among better people than I am.”

Benvolio’s chest rose and fell anxiously. “I know you’re angry, but we cannot believe this, no, Romeo? How would the devil even have -”

“She had an old witch come to fix me, too, which is silly when you think she’s the one who scolds me for talking about demons and faeries, but she must have been desperate. You have to be nice and open for the influence of the devil to get out, and I didn’t make her mad enough to cut me open, so a lot of little cuts it was. Three times seven lashes of the blessed Easter olive, a thin little branch that cuts like thorns, and salt on them to keep the faeries away.”

Romeo recoiled as if he had been stabbed, clinging to the headboard not to fall.  
“Are you teasing us?” Benvolio said softly, frowning, but Romeo realized it had to be true - that's why he was burning up so badly.  
He pressed both his hands on his mouth not to whimper. He couldn’t take his eyes off Mercutio’s face, even though he would have much preferred to look into a ball and cry - half-lucid, bloody, the smirking curve of his lips still looking as if he was embarrassed to have said this and didn’t want it to be a big deal. _How could anyone ever want to hurt him?,_ went through his mind before he the horror of it hit him fully - that anyone could be so cruel to their own child at all, that Mercutio was so helpless against it, and whether this might be just the first time he had been distressed enough to tell them, rather than the first time it happened. 

“You’re so quiet. I scared you.” Mercutio said, matter of fact, but with a childish wispiness to his voice that made his heart clench.

“We suffer for your sake, that’s all.” Benvolio stroked Mercutio’s hair away from his face as he finished bandaging him up. His hand lingered on his temple. “You know that. You know you can tell us anything.”

“I’m sorry you have to suffer then, but I can’t help this.” He sniffled, dangerously close to tears. “I didn’t want you to.”

“We’ll protect you.” Romeo almost screamed it, tears leaking out of his eyes. It felt like a useless promise when they obviously hadn’t until now, and yet he needed to say it.

Mercutio laughed bitterly. “How? Will you write to my mother to duel in my honor? I thought you were too gallant to fight a lady.” 

“We’ll do anything we can.” Benvolio nodded as he spoke. “You don’t have to suffer like this.”

Mercutio twitched as if their words made him itch, searching and grasping for Romeo’s hand. “Well, look at what stupid babies you are. What good can a sweet kitten and a scaredy bunny do? No one can help me anymore.” 

“Peace, Mercutio, you know it isn’t so.”  
“No one can help me.” He pushed himself up on his elbow “It will just hurt you to try.” 

Benvolio choked back a sob and threw his arms around Mercutio’s neck, letting him rest his head against his chest. Mercutio squirmed perfunctorily for a couple moments, then accepted it, closing his eyes as Benvolio knotted his fingers through his hair. Romeo kissed his knuckles and stroked his hand idly, curling against his cousin and trying very hard with little result to make himself feel as safe as it used to make him when he was small. They waited until Mercutio fell asleep, then Benvolio shifted him in a more comfortable position and ripped out the dirty sheet to tuck him in, as Romeo washed the sweat from his face with the little water they had left. In the candlelight Mercutio looked more eight than thirteen, small and twisted with pain and anger the way he used to before he learned to mask it up with jest properly. 

He didn’t know how long he was looking before Benvolio gently pulled him away, holding his hands, his face white with worry.

“Oh, Romeo, doesn’t it hurt?”

“What?”

Benvolio brushed his thumb across his knuckles. He looked down. His hand was turning purple where Mercutio had held it, with bloody crescents lined up on his thumb.

“I didn’t even feel it.” He started shaking, and when Benvolio pulled him tight in his arms he started crying, hiccuping like a small child onto his shoulder.

“You’re too sweet for your own good, Ro.”

He sniffled. “We can’t let him go home, Benny.”

“No.” Romeo was almost startled by the sharp decision of Benvolio’s voice. “Clearly not. Do you have quill and paper?”

Romeo handed them to him, and was delighted when Benvolio sat down on the floor and put the sheet on the chair, taking the invitation to sit down between his legs and curl up against him as he wrote, smiling when he lazily rubbed his shoulder with his left hand. 

“Do you think I can write he got smallpox? I doubt such awful people will come here to check. Valentine might insist, but he’s too small to come on his own.”

Romeo blinked, nervous that he had gotten distracted and missed something he’d been saying. “What? Why do we have to write that?”

“It will give us plenty of time with a good excuse, if Mercutio doesn’t get too restless in the meantime. Do you have better ideas?”

He fidgeted with the laces of his nightshirt, the air coming stuck in his throat. “Do we need an excuse for this? Anyone would understand why he doesn’t want to go home.” 

Benvolio grimaced. “We don’t, but his parents will not accept it, and anyone else will barely think it’s an excuse to not go home tonight. I want him to stay as long as he possibly can, even if we have to paint dots on his face to stretch it to two weeks.”

“I thought he was staying for good!”

“Don’t scream, you’ll wake him up!” Benvolio smacked him softly. “How do you think we can do that?”

He blinked against the tears welling up in his eyes. “I thought you were writing to his parents.”

“Well, I am, but I can’t just up and steal someone’s child with a strongly worded letter, can I?”

“Do you think someone who’d do something so awful to him would care if he comes home? He could stay here forever, be like our brother.” 

Benvolio sighed. “I don’t know - we’re both very lucky we don’t know how such things are. But I don’t think it would be so simple, and I don’t think your parents would agree to it either. All we can give him is some time to get better and be left in peace.”

Romeo shook his head in disbelief. “They might! They know Mercutio well and how much we love him, and they never had a problem with you staying.”

He thought immediately he should not have said that, but Benvolio didn’t look angry, only sad and weary. “That’s different, Romeo. You’re a child and it’s hard to understand, maybe, but it will be different.”

“How is that so different? Everyone knows he is a brother to us no less than we are to each other.” Could it truly be that his mother who knitted cloaks for beggar children every winter and his father who had read to him the stories of the knights of the Graal every evening of his childhood would turn their backs on a suffering defenseless boy? It seemed too cruel, too dishonorable to be true. 

“It’s different because you didn’t do anything wrong for woe to follow you like a clingy puppy, poor thing. I brought this all of myself.” 

They both turned to Mercutio’s bed, elbowing each other in the rush, Romeo’s fingers digging into his cousin’s arm. 

“Go back to sleep, you’re still upset and talking nonsense,” Benvolio said weakly, edging a little closer. 

“No, I will speak the truth, until I still have at least this one pleasure.” Mercutio sat up, wincing and grimacing, and put his hands on his hips.

“Why must you always hurt yourself needlessly? You know it’s not true. You can’t help what you dream of.” 

“But I can help if I bother others with it. I can help being a nuisance for everyone all the time. Isn’t that what you think? I could be good and dutiful and a delight to others as you are, but I just don’t care to try at all, with you or anyone.”

“Peace, don’t say such things. You’re always the sweetest delight to us.” Romeo shushed him, and kissed his temple to soften the blow. His skin was cold to touch, odd and alien against the feverish sparkle in his eyes.

“Am I? But I don’t believe you, Meow-Meow, you are far too soft to think ill of anyone. But you, Volio, my sweet Volio, come here.” He grasped Benvolio’s hand and tugged at him, kissing the back on his wrist with a dramatic wink. “Six months ago when you still wore black you would crawl in my bed and let me kiss your tears away, but now you don’t act like you need me so much anymore. Did your dreams get sweeter or you just don’t love me anymore?”

Benvolio’s face was apple-red. “I don’t have nightmares anymore, yes. Romeo could tell you that - I used to bother him even worse than I did with you when it was still that bad.”

Romeo nodded, even though it wasn’t entirely true the nightmares had stopped altogether - but Benvolio was always so much readier to admit anything to him than Mercutio, as if they didn’t know him at all and he thought he may judge him. It did make him want to scream and ask some of his typical stupid, childish questions every time, but it didn’t mean that Benvolio didn’t love Mercutio as well as him, so he didn’t do it.

“Mh-mh. You don’t? When you see your mother in your dreams she doesn’t slap you, or insult you or tell you all this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t sleepy- drunk that night when the fighting started?”

Benvolio sniffled, his voice rising a little. “No. This has never happened at all, and now it's all over anyway. Can’t you go to sleep? You always say such awful things when you’re hurting.”

“That’s because I asked Queen Mab to leave you be.” Mercutio laughed, overpowering Romeo’s whispered attempts to soothe him. “Every night I make offerings for her, honey for her bath and my hair for her featherbed and grasshopper husks for her carriage when I can find them, and beg her to sprinkle fairy dust on your eyelids and give you happy thoughts and sweet dreams and keep death away from you. But you never do it for me, and I keep seeing only horrors. Didn’t you believe me when I told you about her? Do you think I’m crazy? Do you think there’s the devil inside me too?”

Romeo looked at him, more and more distraught as his voice became shrill, tears shining in the hollow of his eyes. He was transfixed by the impulse of putting an end to his tirade with his lips, surely a softer reproach than words or shushing hands, and shocking enough that his eyes would widen, dark and liquid, taking his heart away from his sorrows for good. He blinked, embarrassed by the silliness of that. 

“No, no, what are you talking about?” Benvolio cupped his face in his hands, cutting Romeo’s reverie mercifully short. “We don’t. You know we- oh, clearly you don’t know, but we do love you. We’re going to do it every day if it helps, uh…” 

Romeo was painfully unsure, shivering with anxiety. Mercutio always seemed so older than his years, so much wiser in the way of the world than they could muster even with their best attempts. He never gave a straight answer on whether his words were truth or lie, it seemed impossible his flight of fancies would spring not from his desire to have them wide-eyed and giggling at his charm and wit, but pain and fear.  
It seemed so odd he truly needed them. 

“We can start tomorrow. You’re staying here tomorrow, right?” He wrapped his arm around Mercutio, kissing his bare shoulder as he sat next to him. “We can go pick the things for the offering together and you can show us how. You can cut our hair if you want. Do you know Benvolio started shaving? He’s too embarrassed to tell you.”

Mercutio laughed hesitantly, and then sunk his face into Romeo’s shoulder and sobbed himself hoarse, as he mumbled sweet nonsense into his ear and Benvolio rubbed his shoulders.

This time they didn’t let him go once he fell asleep, and they slept through the night without a nightmare between the three of them.

_**** - are there still beautiful things?_

The friar directed him to the chapel of the Virgin Mary the Montagues had had built two generations prior, in response to the one the Capulets had dedicated to Saint Francis, both without the least regard of the church’s original name of Saint Peter. He snuck in as the mourners started to leave.

A bowl of water and a washcloth had been left on the floor, with a clean homespun shirt and a blanket folded on the kneeler and a faintly steaming mug of strong chamomile draught. Yet Romeo looked no different than he had been when Benvolio had ripped him away forcefully from Mercutio’s body and screamed at him to run - still bloodsoaked, crumpled on the spread of the statue’s hard cold mantle, his shoulders shaking violently. He thought it was from sobbing at first, but when he got a little closer he saw his eyes were dry and blank.

“Romeo,” he called softly, hoping to catch his attention without startling him too much; he didn’t respond, so he slowly sat next to him, stroking his back.

He went on for a while in silence, settling into a slow, regular rhythm to guide his breaths when he started to panic. 

"I didn't think you were coming, Benny." 

"Shh, of course I would, why shouldn't I? I just…" 

The explanation died in his throat. From where he was, Romeo could have easily seen the funeral peaking through the stained glass. But of course he might have been too stunned to bother or even notice what was going on - or maybe he had tried, but having to see his dearest friend carried to his tomb without being able to see him or touch him one last time had been too overwhelming, when all his other kin and friends, close or not, would have a chance to bid him their last goodbye and find comfort in each other while he was shut away from human affection like the lowest of criminals? 

"I would never let you leave without saying goodbye. Your parents will come later too, they're still trying to plead for mercy, and I had to give him my witness too, that’s why I took so long. But I’m here for you now, I would never abandon you.” He ruffled his hair, swallowing down a lump of tears. “You’re not a murderer to me.”

“I don’t think that’s a matter of opinion.” He sat up, squinting against the lights of the votive candles, and slumped again on the other side before he could embrace him, sinking his head in Benvolio’s lap.

“I didn’t want to do this, Benny. I tried, I really tried, but when… when he… I couldn’t not do _anything.”_

“I know. Everyone knows you tried.” He ran his fingertip along the edge of his cheek and winced when he sighed in relief and closed his eyes. Had anyone bothered to comfort him at all after he had fled the scene? He supposed the friar might have tried, but he couldn't know as well as him how much Romeo needed to be touched and soothed, and it wouldn’t be proper anyway. Perhaps he should have just told him to stay and held him tight as the Capulets railed on and the prince spouted off his uncaring, half-hearted sentence, for all the good fleeing had done him. “You couldn’t have tried harder not to murder that boy, anyone could see that. If Mercutio-”

He cut himself off, biting his lip. It hurt, how he could feel Mercutio’s presence here, lying all over Romeo with his hands in his hair and his leg thrown around his chest, or wrapped behind Benvolio’s back, covering his eyes to make him jump, sticking his tongue out at him as he complained about him getting into yet another needless fight. He felt that if he said it aloud, the lack of response would crush him. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have tried. It wasn’t Mercutio he had a quarrel with. If I would have become a murderer anyway, I might as well do it without him dying, and if instead I had to die, I - it would be alright. At least he would know I’d do that for him, that I love him.”

His voice was starting to waver and break; Benvolio gently followed the curve of his eyelids with his fingertip, wiping the first outbreak of tears away. "That's nonsense, don't upset yourself anymore than necessary, he wouldn't want it. He knew full well how much you love him, and he did what he did for your sake because he knew you would do the same." 

Romeo choked out a long wail, pressing his face in the crook of Benvolio's arm. "He was so angry. He couldn't have known that I… he must have thought that I just didn't care enough not to let him die in my place. He must have felt so abandoned, so alone. Do you think he can see what we're saying now, or he'll feel that way until we meet again?" 

“What? No, silly, he knew all that fully well. How could he not? He was just scared, and you know how Mercutio is, he needs to be angry when he’s scared. He can’t help it.”

His throat dried up as it struck him how useless it was to make peace, soothe wounded feelings, bring both to see the other’s perspective as he had done a thousand times before and Romeo had done hundreds times with him and Mercutio, and Mercutio had done with them too, much as they might tease him for being hopeless with feelings, when Mercutio would never come again at Romeo’s window to close everything with a tearful hug and promises to be better, when they would never see him again. 

He breathed in sharply and blinked, but he couldn’t stop the first sob from coming and then it was just hopeless. He looked away, rubbing his eyes in the shoulder of his sleeve.

"Benny?" 

Romeo sat up, looking at him with concern. Benvolio closed his eyes for a moment when he raised his hand to wipe his tears. 

"I'm sorry. I don't want to upset you more than needed, but I just can't think of him without…" He put his hand on Romeo's shoulder and ran it down his arm, shaking. He felt like he could smell Mercutio's last breaths on him. "You should get cleaned up." 

Romeo's eyes were full of tears and for a moment he was frightened he would flinch from his touch, but he just hummed in acceptance. He leaned a little closer and kissed his forehead when Benvolio started undoing the laces of shirt, lingering longer than necessary and it only made him want to cry more. He had to remind himself that he was not gone, that he at least would come back to him again in a way or another, but it seemed painfully far away.

“Do you remember the way to Mantua?” He asked when the silence was too unbearable to bear.

“I think so, more or less.”

He ruffled his hair. “You’re going to go there to your mother’s sister. Your parents will come to bring you your things for the journey. We’ll plead for you to be allowed back as soon as you can, and visit too. Don’t be scared.” 

“I’m not scared. I more than deserve this.”

“No, don’t say that. You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said, shaking his head, but right as he did he felt it was wrong to thnk that, the memory of all his sweet attempts to bravado trying in vain to keep up with Mercutio’s antics buried under the new look of tragic determination in his wide eyes. He felt keenly the way Romeo’s shoulders were wider and his chest harder than he was used to as he helped him towel off the dried blood, uncovering a smattering of fresh bruises and cuts. He wondered if he would end up with scars; if the Capulets would even let him have enough time for it. They didn’t go swimming as often as when they were children, spending their summers more on wine, dances and riding, and he had missed his little cousin growing into a young man. He hated himself for not paying more attention, and yet it barely mattered - Benvolio wasn’t sure where the line fell, between being an innocent little boy and a potential enemy to be killed or ruined as soon as possible, but he suspected sixteen years was already far beyond it. If there was a line at all.

“You didn’t deserve any of this,” he snapped, his fingers curling around Romeo’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t have had to choose if you’d rather kill or die or watch your best friend die because you sneaked in at a party - because we honestly forced you to sneak in at a party. Everyone knows that Tybalt was dangerous, if you’d left he would have just found you when you were alone, and do you think Mercutio would have allowed that? We could have begged him to stay out of it as much as we wanted, he would never have let it slide. He could never let anyone hurting you slide.”

“What, are you saying it was his own fault then?” 

Benvolio winced as Romeo’s nails dug in his wrist, his voice sharp with betrayal. “No, no. He didn’t choose to be so angry all the time either. He didn’t deserve to grow up thinking the best thing he could do for anyone was die.”

He stopped to breathe, wheezing, burying his face in his hands, and suddenly Romeo was wrapped around him like an old blanket, his cheek pressed against his, softly damp with tears. The warmth of his hands on his back, the feeling of his rhythmic sobs echoing through both their bodies lulled Benvolio and loosened his tongue, and soon he was babbling like a small child. “We deserved to be happy. We deserved to be together forever, we had to fight so hard for it and it’s not fair, it’s not.”

“We should have _saved_ him.” Romeo spat out. “I should have told him that I love him every day, and that hearing his terrible jokes and stupid lies was the main reason I woke up and got out of the house every morning, and maybe _that_ would have been barely enough to convince him it was worth it to stay.”

Benvolio didn’t know how to answer. Every time he had ever felt he could be useful to anyone seemed like the most naive of childish dreams now - as if they had been doomed for this the day they’d met Mercutio in his uncle’s palace, and all their happy memories were only biding their time until the price for dragging an innocent boy into their family’s strife would get at them. He ran his hands through Romeo’s curls, kissing the tip of his nose and his temples when his words escalated into screaming, and wished again and again he was the one being taken to his eternal rest now, if one of them had to.

“We should have ran away together.” Romeo said once the worst of his outburst was over, leaning on his shoulder, his voice calm and sweet.

Benvolio couldn’t help but smile a little. “Run? Where to?”

“Anywhere. Maybe just let the river take us to sea. We would have had adventures, and no one would know our name or pick fights or try to attack us, and… Mercutio would find no one who wanted to hurt him.”

“Do you think Mercutio could survive more than a week without anyone trying to attack him?” he joked, but he regretted it right away. He knew that wasn’t the hurt he meant. 

“But you see, we wouldn’t have to grow up, at least not… like we did here. So it would always be an adventure, not a real fight, and there would be nothing we couldn’t face if we were together.”

He cupped Romeo’s cheek, wishing desperately that he were seven and telling him all that innocently, without tears in his eyes and a sarcastic smile that looked like Mercutio and felt like a knife between his ribs. “I guess Merc was right. We’re two scaredy babies, who can’t handle adventures.”

“Yes. We weren’t brave enough to help him.”

Benvolio sighed and let his hand wander over his little cousin’s frowning face, smoothing the lines of his forehead and brushing over his lips.

“If I told you a secret, do you promise you wouldn’t tell?” 

Romeo laughed bitterly. “I’m not in a position to do elsewise even if I wanted.”

He shook his head. “I’ve told you. You won’t be away from home for long.” 

Romeo either didn’t believe him or was not particularly impressed, so he carefully let him go and rose up to fetch his bag. He sat at a bit more distance from Romeo, so they could talk face to face more easily and he had some space, but still put his arm around his waist for good measure as he put Mercutio’s leather-bound notebook in his hand. “I want you to have this.”

His cousin breathed in sharply; he opened the notebook first, opening it at a drawing of himself at ten, sticking his tongue out and with cat ears poking out of his hair, then dropped it as if it scalded his hand. “If he gifted this to you, I don’t want it. He wouldn’t want just anyone to see it.”

Any other day the sulky lilt of his voice would have made him laugh, but now it weighed like lead in his chest, the thought Romeo wouldn’t stop thinking for a second before readily accepting he could ever be _just anyone_ to Mercutio. “Alas, it was not a gift. I climbed into his window while his parents were in church.”

“Are you teasing me?”  
Benvolio shrugged. The angry look on Romeo’s face turned to a timid smile, his finger following tenderly the lines of the drawing. “Well, I figure he would be happy to see he has totally corrupted you.”

He put his hand over Romeo’s, caressing his knuckles. “You’ve said it, he wouldn’t want just anyone to see his secrets. I couldn’t leave this for his family to open or let dust as they wished. They have no right.”

Romeo sniffled. He turned the page, uncovering a sketch of the pillow fort they’d built in Romeo’s bedroom, only in this version it included disturbingly detailed gargoyles at each corner and a recipe for siege tar scribbled at the bottom of the page (involving candlewax, ink and far more snail slime than Benvolio had been pleased with when they tried it).

“You should keep this.” His voice shook. “You deserve something to remember him by.”

“I’ll have far more than I want or need to remember him by. Every corner in this hellhole will remind me of something we did together, and I’ll think of him every time I'll be talking to someone and be bored to death and wish he was making fun of me instead. You'll be on your own." 

Romeo's eyes glittered. He could see the struggle in them, as if he had no right to accept but wanted it so badly. When had he started feeling that he had to carry the weight of the whole world on his shoulders to such an extent? He was familiar enough with the feeling, from the childhood days when it felt like having to keep Mercutio and Romeo from getting beaten up on the street was the greatest responsibility that had ever been bestowed on a human being, but he had never thought Romeo would have to suffer it. Was it growing up, or murder, or were they one and the same for boys like them? 

“Alright.” He said in the end, pressing the notebook against his heart. Benvolio smiled and pinched his cheek, making him giggle hesitantly. 

“There you go. I know you can withstand this, even if you don’t. And it won’t be for long. You’re so young, and the Prince is still Mercutio’s own blood, whether he acknowledges it or cares at all or not.” Romeo lifted his eyes heavenwards, but without the mocking he and Mercutio would affect when he said something naive - just resigned. “Alright, you don’t believe me. Then I will come for you as soon as you can, and we won’t have to cry and wring our hands about who deserves Mercutio’s lewd drawings more. Would you like that?”

“Won’t you be busy here?” 

“With what, even?” It felt fitting enough that he would be left to grow old in Verona, help his uncle and maybe someday inherit the burden of the house, watch things change and children grow and yet the same old bloody tale spin itself in the end. He would have accepted it as his lot well enough if Mercutio and Romeo had decided to go off adventuring together for a while, accepted it as his role in their trio. But now it felt as unbearable as being buried alive. “We can still be happy together, Ro.”

Romeo looked down, tears spilling out and streaming down his cheek. “I’m scared if you come, when you know... when you see me again you will not want to stay. You will be angry at me, and blame me for Mercutio’s death even more, and I don’t want you to hate me. Maybe it would be better for you to just remember me as sweetly as you can.”

“How could I do such a thing! You’ve been unfairly blamed enough. Nothing could ever make me hate you.” 

He held him as he cried, whispering muffled, repeated _I don’t want to leave_ and _this is not how I wanted it to go_ against his chest, consoled him, and bid him farewell with a kiss when the sun started to set, but he could not coax any explanation from him. It weighted on his chest as he left, anxious that his heart was so deeply wounded not even the sweet memory of their bond or the promise of seeing him again would ever soothe him.

He would find out just how right he was soon enough.


End file.
